#or wick (witch dick)

[the-bat-bros]

I need someone to animate no one mourns the wicked with The Red Hood as Elphaba and Nightwing as Glinda please and thank you.

[theaceofarrows]

Family movie night

Jason: The Wicked Witch of the West had EVERY right to light Dorothy's ass up-

Duke: Here we go again

Jason: You think you're going to kill MY sister and steal her heels, you hillbilly bitch? I don't think so

Tim: [throwing his hands up] This is why we don't invite you to movie night!

Jason: Oh, so it's my fault that you're not man enough to hear the truth?!

Dick: Guys, shut up. They're about to start singing Yellow Brick Road

Damian: Todd is correct. The Wicked Witch has every right to avenge her blood

Dick: [groans]

Tim: That's NOT the point-

Steph: Ooh~ Tim doesn't believe in avenging siblings

Duke: That's cold dude

Tim: What?!

Jason: [shaking his head at Tim] You spineless bitch

[Screaming match commences]

Bruce: [turns on subtitles] So nice to have the family all together

[preyingmantits]

Step into my office. Today we are talking about Marius creeping on Benji, treating him like Amadeo 2.0, leaving clothing and jewellery at the Trinity Gate doorstep for him. Taking him on solo outings to classical art galleries while Armand paces at home, anxious and conflicted, until they return. Benji pawns all the gifts to buy Roblox giftcards and Fruity Pebbles vape juice. He says "OK Groomer" everytime Marius opens his stupid mouth. When they get to Botticelli's Annunciation, he yawns and rolls his eyes. Pulls up a picture of Andres Serrano's Piss Christ on his ASUS ROG 9 Pro gaming phone and says "now that's art." Marius' dick shrivels up like the Wicked Witch of the East's feet and falls off. I lay down my chainsaw because I can see Benji Mahmoud has this all under control. The world is healing.

[batsandbirdbrains]

so I was wondering if you could do something where nobody realizes how much Dick hates Talia if they knew at all but then something happens so people find out/learn the full extent of Dick’s hate toward her how it’s not a little dislike but he hates her with a burning passion maybe they find out when the JL recruit some villains to help stop some big threat and they’re paired together and outwards he has zero reaction but internally he is freaking out like full blown meltdown because it’s Talia like I hate her so much plz anyone but her and then after the Thing is handled people find Nightwing in Talia Al Ghul in a full blown screaming match about who knows what nasty insults are thrown on both sides nobodies seen Nightwing like this either ever or in a really long time

on another note I think your amazing like these ideas are so good

Okay but imagine the hatred is very mutual. They both despise each other. It started when Bruce first took Dick in, because he’d been on and off with Talia for years. And Talia hated that Bruce committed to a child but not to her. A child who isn’t even his blood.

She told Dick from the moment they first met that one day she would marry Bruce, and she’d ship Dick off to boarding school the first chance she got. That she’d have a real child with Bruce, and Bruce would forget all about Dick. That Dick was a fleeting fancy and soon enough, Bruce would be done playing with his new toy.

And Dick is nothing if not petty. He becomes a stage 5 clinger with Bruce, never letting go, making Bruce carry him, hold him, play with him. He screams and cries and begs if Bruce doesn’t stay with him. And Bruce is so freaked out, so worried, so afraid of screwing up Dick’s childhood that he gives in to any little request. He carries Dick around everywhere. They’re always holding hands. Dick barely gives him a moment’s peace.

And after a gala where Talia managed to get Dick alone long enough to threaten him (again), Dick is now resting snugly in Bruce’s arms, his own arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck, and he sends a cheeky little wave at Talia as they’re leaving. Then he quickly follows it up with making the rudest faces and gestures towards her, but no one else is around to see it. No one will ever believe her.

They both drive each other nuts.

Fast forward several years, and the JL is teaming up with a few rogues for whatever reason. And Nightwing and Talia get paired up. They’re outwardly pleasant, but they’re both saying horrible things to each other under the breath when everyone is distracted.

Then they get back, and even though their part arguably went the smoothest, they enter the Watchtower just screaming at each other.

“You’re an evil fucking bitch, you know that?” he snaps. “I’m still not entirely convinced Damian is even yours, no way a kid like that came from a wicked witch like you!”

“You will not speak of my son, you little circus rat!”

“You’re just jealous he likes me better! Just like B; that really must grind your gears, always coming in second place to such a rotten little interloper like myself. Isn’t that what you always called me?”

“I ought to pull your intestines out through your bellybutton and hang you with them.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Their argument devolves into name calling, shouting, rude gestures, and Nightwing actually sticking his tongue out at her.

When they hear Talia call him, “a rotten little boy who should’ve fallen with his parents,” Damian finally puts a stop to it. He stands in front of Dick and glares at his mother, barking at her to cease this behavior and apologize for saying such an awful thing.

“It’s alright, Dami, it’s fine,” Dick is quick to say, tugging Damian away, holding him close. “She’s said way worse, don’t worry about it. Let’s go home. Do you want to get Batburger with me?”

Damian is horrified to learn his mother has said such terrible things to Dick. He’s even more horrified when Dick lets it slip that they’ve been at each others throats since Bruce first adopted him. He holds on tightly to Dick’s hand, saying in a weak little voice that that’s an abhorrent way for an adult to treat a child. Dick just laughs it off, but he squeezes Damian’s hand and tries to change the subject.

They eat Batburger on top of a tall building in Gotham, looking out at all the lights.

Everyone else was also horrified, but they knew to give Dick his space. Bruce will ask him about it later, once he’s cooled down.

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hot Under The Helmet.

gif credit

pairing: soldier boy/ben x wife!reader.

rating: explicit.

warning: ben's pov, horny and angry ben, dom/sub undertones, aggressive sex, piv, fingering, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, glove kink, eventual fluff, antiquated mentality...

word count: 2.2k

summary: fucking his wife is the best way to ease his mind.

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @homosexualferret...

→ masterlist | ao3

Soldier Boy didn't head back to his quarters in Vought's tower when the damned mission was over. He didn't want to spend another minute with his pathetic excuse of a fucking team nor did he want to be in the tower. He scoffed. A bunch of fucking clowns in a fucking circus. Sometimes he wondered if Vought picked them on purpose for the sake of insulting him and his legacy.

Instead, Soldier Boy made his way straight back home. He'd been on duty for a couple of weeks, accompanied with his teammates and other government soldiers as a backup to their mission — not that he needed either but protocols and marketing and Vought's bullshit.

Long story short, and as expected, The Twins fucked up, Noir tried to be the hero of the day, Swatto a fucking idiot, Mind Storm and Gunpowder fucking useless, Countess a fucking bitch. He had to handle it all by himself and fix everything his teammates dicked with. And he was pissed. Fuming. Raging. All he was seeing was red. And he could do nothing about it.

When Vought promised him a team to lead, he expected to have seasoned soldiers who knew how shit was done. Warriors who respected the missions and honoured their duty and privileged their country. Instead, he got fucking spoiled children to babysit. He wasn't in charge. The irony. His fucking helmet of forty years of dedication and service for this country granted him no say at the matter. It was fine, he'd tried to convince himself. He took it upon himself to train them and mould them into formidable soldiers like he was but to no avail. The fucking idiots thought the job was only to wave their hands and pose for fucking cameras at movie premieres!

Soldier Boy grumbled when he stepped inside one of his many properties. The one he shared with his wife. Their penthouse; their home. His pretty, little wife. He let a small smile slip into his lips when a mix of aromatic whiffs permeated his nostrils, his superhuman sense of smell enhanced the savoury scent. His stomach grumbled. Fuck did he really miss his wife's delicious cooking. Suddenly, his fury began to cease. Soldier Boy clicked his helmet off of his head absent-mindedly and set his shield aside before his lips quirked into a wicked grin.

It'd been a fucking fortnight since he saw her. Touched her. Fucked her. He was surrounded by dicks for far too long, and he craved pussy. Her pussy. He was consumed by the urge of destroying her cunt. And she'd love it. She'd always had. She liked it rough. She liked him ruining her, and leaving her unable to sit right for days. And she even dared to chide him when he went easy on her at the beginning of their relationship.

“I'm not fucking fragile, Ben. Don't you hold back.” She'd told him.

He smirked. She had no idea what he had in store for her tonight.

With many many years of experience under his belt, Soldier Boy stealthed his way to the kitchen where his wife was swaying her hips and humming a song as she bent over to check on the ribs she was roasting in the oven. Ben smiled proudly. He never let her do that job. The grilling. It was a man's job, the husband's job. So, to accommodate his wishes, she came up with this idea. To cook that kinda food in other ways. And being the expert cook she was, she did it extraordinarily.

His dulled eyes came to life with a lick of lust swirling within the green of his eyes when he traced the curve of her perfect ass. Fuck, his trousers began to feel too tight to his liking. Little did she know that she had a stirred brute standing behind her, waiting for the right moment to pounce on his prey.

Turning on her heels gracefully, a surprised gasp escaped her throat when her dilated eyes landed on her beloved husband. He was still in his supe gear except for his helmet and shield.

“Ben!” She trilled with a big smile, trying to balance herself from the surprise; he was hours early, “Welcome back, honey! Didn't think you'd be early—”

He cut her off with a burning kiss. Hungry and possessive. How he could cross the kitchen to her in such agility was still behind her. He smelled like earth and dust, blood and sweat. He smelled like a man should. Like a soldier should. Her core throbbed at his virile odour. His stubble grew bigger, and she liked how it brushed coarsely against her palms when she cupped his cheeks to kiss him back. She giggled against his mouth when his strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her up effortlessly and sat her at the countertop.

She clung to his neck, their kiss nourishing with vigour. His lips left hers temporarily to loosen her apron and toss it aside, then he removed her blouse and unclasped her bra. Ben crushed her lips again, his rough-padded hands kneading her tits, thumbs aggressively flicking her hardening nipples. His thumbnails grazing crescents on her darkening areolas. Ben's lips split mischievously when she let a wanton moan. His grin widened when the smell of her arousal reached his nose. Fuck. He loved it. He could already taste that on his tongue.

“Fuck, Ben!” She groaned when one of his hands trailed down to her shorts and slipped beneath her panties. He smirked when she instantly smeared his fingertips wet with her arousal. He let his gloves on; he knew she loved it when his gloved fingers fucked her relentlessly. She liked it when they were knuckles-deep inside of her, with the rims of his fingerless gloves grazing her clit. The little slut. She also liked when he fucked her in his supe suit. She took pleasure in submitting to his power. To him. He was a man worth submitting to after all, and he'd earned hers.

“Hmh, those fourteen days were rough on you, weren't they, baby girl?” He mocked, thick fingers spreading her folds open roughly. He loved to tease her and turn her into a mess. He relished in it.

She nodded hastily. It took a measured press of his thumb on her clit to turn her into putty in his hand. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y-Yes, Sir,” She whined, legs parting wider for him, “They were brutal.” She sobbed, burying her face in his powerful neck when he twisted his finger just right, her ankle snapped. He added another finger and she mewled.

“Ben, Ben! Sir, please!” She shrieked in delight, hands clutching at his gear. She gushed on his fingers and he fucked her through her high. He felt the tremble of legs. He was going to force another one from her. She should have asked for permission. She wasn't in control. He was.

She gasped when he didn't stop, “Ben, please don't—!” She squeezed her thighs shut, an attempt to cease the searing pleasure between her legs. His fingers were raw against her flesh. It brought tears to her eyes.

“Now you want me to stop?” He sneered with a drawl, curling a finger inside, her walls tightened in response. “Your pretty pussy doesn't.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, before she gazed up at him through half-hooded eyes, moaning, “Don't stop!”

Fuck, that shouldn't have surprised him. But it did. Fuck. She was really a slut. His pretty slut. She was practically inviting him to break her. Oh, he would. Deliciously so.

She squealed when he coaxed another orgasm from her. Begging him to fuck her more like a bitch in a heat.

“Holy fuck, baby, your pussy is squeezing my fingers tight!” He chuckled maliciously as he curled his knuckles again then pulled out.

With pearlescent tears adorning her eyes, she took his thumb into her mouth when he pressed it to her lips. Fuck, the way she twirled her tongue around his digit made him half-tempted to fuck her throat. He could do that later. Now, all he wanted was to fuck that needy, slutty pussy raw.

Ben shifted her up and flipped her on her stomach, her hot breasts squeezing against the cold marble. Shoving her shorts and panties down, he took in the sight of her ruined pussy. She was soaking, her arousal oozed from her opening down to her thighs in small rivulets. Unabashedly inviting him to feast on it. And how could he reject such an invitation? In a moment, he was on his knees, mouth wrapped around her slit, sipping from the sweet honey she had to offer. Seemed the act surprised her as she jerked in stupor with a squawk.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Her knuckles went white when she grabbed on the edges of the countertop as he ate her out like a man starved.

The new gruff hairs on his face burned deliciously against her skin as his tongue flicked assiduously against her swollen clit. He lapped her heat with a flattened tongue before invading her sensitive drawers, slurping her through the mess of her dew and his spit.

“Ben…I'm cumming again!” She tried to utter, but all that came out of her mouth was a broken whisper.

Smirking again, he unbridled the wonders his tongue could do, and she was undone again; his soddend beard was a proof of what he could do to her.

He licked her clean, and her overstimulated cunt shivered every time his tongue made contact with her flesh. She was trying to catch her breath up there, but he couldn't let her. He wasn't done with her yet. He had yet to be satisfied.

He heard her hum as she turned her face to make eye contact with him. A satiated look in her eyes as she smiled weakly at him.

“Ain't fair tho,” She croaked playfully.

He raised an eyebrow, “Hmm?”

Supporting herself with her arms, she managed to turn her body to face him, eyes immediately perching on the conspicuous bulge between his legs before her teeth dragged her lower lip inside her mouth.

“I'm naked, you're not.” Her hands trailed from his chest down to his zipper.

“Thought you liked me fucking you in this shit.” He drawled thickly as her nimble fingers undid his pants and freed his cock.

“God, you're so hard,” She giggled gleefully, “I do,” Her eyes flitted up to his face, “I like what kinda authority this suit holds. It's like fucking a god.”

His dick twitched painfully at her words. She was so good at this. He liked that about her. How she could tickle and caress his massive ego so easily. How good she made him feel so damn good about himself though he'd never admit that out loud. A god she wanted to fuck, then a god she would fuck.

His large hand roughly seized her jaws, her yelp was swallowed by his mouth. His dick was too eager to feel the warmth and wetness of her cunt as he plunged it inside of her.

“Oh, God!” She sang, her arms encircling his neck as he snapped his hips into her. Her hands fisted his short hair.

“No god, only me.” He groaned.

She cried his name as he bottomed out, he was fucking every ounce of anger out of his system on her. And she liked it. Her walls sucked him deeply, wanting more, and more he gave her.

He grumbled, “Gonna put a baby in you.” He wasn't asking. He was telling.

“Yes, Yes! Please make me a mommy!” Pride sprouted in his chest, and the immense feeling bolted down his spine and made his cock spring his load into her.

He didn't pull out right away, he waited for a few minutes. He didn't want his seed to spill out of her as much as appealing that would be to watch.

“You okay?” He asked her with concern.

“A bit thirsty, but I'm aces,” She blinked, sighing dreamily, “That was fucking sexy by the way.

He chuckled amusedly, reaching for the pot of water next to them and pouring her a glass, “The part you called me a god?”

She rolled her eyes as she gobbled down the water.

He arched his brow before whispering into her ear, “Roll your eyes at me like that again and I won't be letting you cum for a month.”

She choked on the water and he laughed deeply at her reddened face.

Suddenly, he became aware of the burning smell coming from the oven. She picked up on him sniffing and they looked at each other and say in unison, “The ribs!”

Her quiver didn't go unnoticed when he pulled out of her to let her check on the food cooking in the oven while he adjusted his clothes. He appreciated her nakedness in the kitchen, maybe he should ask her to wear nothing but an apron when she cooked. She'd look fucking sexy. His cock twitched at the idea.

His wife groaned in disappointment when she saw the ribs.

“Is it bad?” He asked, crouching next to her.

“It's way crispier than I intended.” A hand pressed to her forehead.

“I can handle crispier.”

“But, Ben, I wanted it to be perfect for you,” She whimpered and he smiled, “I know how much you like it.”

“Well, in your defence, happened when you were pretty busy serving me desserts before the main dish,” He winked.

She shook her head with a smile, “Y'know, you're surprisingly cheeky sometimes.”

“With you, I am.”

[sirxlla]

Better Late Than Never

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff 🥰

Prompt: He's always late but you're understanding. (request: @nesting-dreams )

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

If there was one thing that stressed Dick out, it was trying to balance his work, life, and sleep schedule in the limited time that was twenty-four hours. There wasn't even remotely any pressure from you, even if he felt there was; he's a goddamn superhero; The guy is busy, of course, he is. No matter how many times you tell Dick that it's okay, he just won't remove that weight from his shoulders.

Date night...Oh, you were so excited. You got cleaned up real spiffy, the dress, the heals, the makeup, and the lingerie you sneakily had under your dress on the off chance he actually had the time or made it cause, let's face it, Dick always makes time for that, your sex life is awesome even if it was quick some times. The things he often struggled with were the things that took longer, the talking and dates, and such.

Thirty minutes had passed by and the waiter asked if there was gonna be someone else to which you politely reminded him yes there is. The waiter was being rather annoying as he kept trying to make sly comments about not keeping you waiting and how he'd never do that. You rolled your eyes in your mind but smiled.

"Well, I appreciate it but I have a boyfriend." You said as politely as one could considering how rude and frustrating this man was being.

"What boyfriend? I don't see him and you could do so much better..." The waiter boasted he was unattractive in looks but even more so in his continuing attitude, so when even though Dick showed up out of breath and covered in sweat, it was a relief.

"Just on time." You smile as you looked at Dick even though he and you both knew he was damn sure not on time.

"Just on time, it's been forty mi-" He stops as you give him a look to help him become aware of the situation, to which he clears his throat.

"Yeah, you're right, Baby," Dick says with a smile as he slightly dead-eyes the waiter so he gets the message. Thankfully the waiter gets it even as he looks at Dick judgementally cause of his clothes.

"Hey, I'm so sorry; I- the bat bike broke down, and I ran the rest of the way here. I- I promise, I didn't forge-" Stopped by your hand, reaching across the table to gently fix his hair.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Honey. You know that."

"But I- I should have been on time."

"Yeah, Shame on you. I nearly melted into a puddle like the Wicked Witch." You teased trying to distract him from his worries.

"I mean, that would be awful; that would not be how I picture that dress on the floor tonight." He quipped as he almost forgot his worry.

"Exactly, so it's good when you arrived at all." You smiled and grabbed his hand across the table to calm him.

"I just hate that I do this over and over." He looks into your eyes as he talks, worry in every single bit of his being, in his tone and shoulders, in his eyes and his fast heartbeat.

"Dick, No one is putting pressure on you in this relationship, just you. Okay? I get busy too, I get it. Okay?" You nod as you ask hoping he'll understand a bit or it'll at least curb his fears for the night. He nods and another sever approches, a woman.

"Sorry, your other server stepped out." She smiles as she speaks.

"Oh, thank god." You and Dick say that same time on accident before you both try to apologize.

"No, it's nothing Garrett's a complete asshole." She whispers before getting your drinks and leaves to give you a few minutes for the menu. A bit passes, and she comes back and hands over those drinks and gets your orders. She grabs the menus and she's on her way.

"You sure you're not ma-"

"Richard, if I hear about it one more time."

"I just-"

"No. Take a deep breath and look into my eyes. Does this look like someone who's upset?" You asked and forced him to look up at you with a bit by gently guiding his chin. His anxiety melted with that one look into the depths of your eyes, the layers of love, compassion, and care in them calming his worry.

"N- No."

"You're right. I'm not, so don't think I am okay. Don't ever think I am? I could never be upset with you for saving lives and kicking ass. I know what I got into when I got with you, and what I got is a badass boyfriend who I couldn't imagine was real like you've been plucked from my sweetest dreams."

"Cheesey...That was cheesy." He quips as he tries to tear up. "Like ten pounds of different flavors." He looks up trying to dry the tears by making it seem like he's looking at the light. He takes a breath and realizes his anxiety is just getting bad.

"If I ever lost you, I'd go mad." He states and kisses your knuckles, rubbing his pillowy lips across them to calm himself.

Your food arrives, and shortly after eating and on the way home, he also begins to realize he was just hungry as well, and that was contributing to it. He offered to drive your vehicle home since you had a bit of wine which, of course, you said yes. He kept his hand in yours reminding himself to add this to the list of moments in his brain to remind himself of when he gets anxious or worried.

You looked gorgeous, and he kept glancing at you, realizing you fell asleep at some point, and his heart swelled. He parks the car shortly after when he arrives at the manor. Dick can't bring himself to wake you, so he carries you inside. He gets you to the room; he knows he should wake you so you don't sleep in your makeup, but he just can't make himself.

Dick lays you down and undoes the buckle straps on your heels, gently setting them down. He unzips the dress and peels it off you only to be met with the lingerie, which causes him to let out a verbal but quiet "Damn it."

He smiles and undresses before heading to shower to rinse off the sweat residue. Dick wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but he wasn't tired, and this insomnia was kicking his ass, so he got on his laptop and scrolled around for a while looking at things from suit upgrades to engagement rings, before feeling tired enough to cuddle up against his sweet girl.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if youd like. 💙

[hrhprincerichard]

Richard was used to being led places. Mostly by Rohan. But it was familiar enough that Richard could almost forget the embarrassing part. That she was leading him to Grant's room for a hookup. Which he couldn't think about, even though it kept popping into his head, or this would be even more embarrassing. It really hadn't been long enough since he'd been laid that he should be this level of desperate. But then it was Grant and that was a whole other thing. And he was thinking about it again. Her question made him wonder if she somehow knew he was thinking about hooking up with Grant while they walked. Was she really making small talk? Now? "Yes. It was a very nice reception and the food was delicious." Except he'd spent the whole time trying not to look at Grant because all he could think about were those whispered words about Grant doing very bad things to him. Minus that time when Cora chatted about the French Ambassador flirting with Grant. Had Grant not texted him afterwards he might have wondered if he'd turn up at Grant's room to find the French Ambassador already there. Grant did have a thing for French. None of which he should be thinking about right now. "The White House is very nice," he tacked on and felt like an idiot promptly after. Not the distraction from hiss thoughts he needed.

Amy was relieved when Prince Richard agreed to let her escort him most of the way to Grant’s room. Far enough to make sure he didn’t get lost and didn’t get caught by anyone else. She wasn’t sure what she’d have done if he’d said no, and she was glad she didn’t have to figure that one out. “I don’t mind at all,” she told him with another gentle smile. “Come on, it’s this way.” She nodded down the hall and started leading Richard that way, as if she had no idea what he was up to. It wasn’t her business other than to know he wasn’t a threat to Grant or the White House, and she had no doubts there. “Did you enjoy the dinner tonight?” She asked, mostly in an attempt to keep either of them from dwelling on the fact they both knew that she knew what Richard was up to.

[courtingchaos]

I’ve been thinking about eddie who’s in the early pre relationship stages with you. but in his mind he’s married to you he’s been pining after you for so long. he doesn’t want to scare you though so he’s pumping the breaks and trying to take things slow.

you’re spending the night at his and he’s managed to keep enough distance from you that he deems respectful in his courtship of you. but when he wakes it’s to your hand high on his thigh, and you’re out for the count. and he’s hard as a rock and needs to move you before you wake up and see what state he’s in.

not wanting to wake you and alert you to his issue he thinks on his feet and decides he has to become soft asap, then he can move you. then if you wake up it’s not going to be to him feeling like a complete pervert.

so he’s reciting his favourite passages from all of the books he’s read.

only it’s not doing much. the pretty girl in his bed is winning this round.

he starts reciting them backwards to increase the difficulty and hopefully distract the ache away. but in his ingenuity to up the anti he’s inadvertently made it so tough that he’s now whisper shouting the words out loud. waking you. eddie still hard as a rock reciting poetry in a wicked order that makes no sense to man nor beast, is stopped abruptly in his tracks, gasping at the feel of your palm squeezing the meat of his inner thigh. Mortified and yet. Still painfully erect with no hope of going down anytime soon

sorry to vomit this at you but it seemed like fate that you’d asked for a request (this is far too long and detailed I’m sorry) and I was thinking about this at the same time

1. Don’t apologize, you’ve struck gold. You have not dug too greedily nor too deep.

2. You’ve written this really well so I could just post this with a bunch of reactions under it but, if you’ll allow me to expand upon this.

Picture this with me okay? He’s reciting Jabberwocky to himself. It’s a nonsense poem. He had an English teacher once give out a project for them to learn and recite a poem and of course he chose this. It has fun words in it like vorpal and borogoves. It’s become one of his bits actually when he’s trying to command a room.

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:”

Everyone will sigh. Jeff and Gareth and Frank will drop their heads onto their desks or over the backs of their chairs in long groans. Dustin still thinks it’s fun, he hasn’t gotten tired of it yet, and Mike likes it he just won’t admit it. Eddie loves it though, likes the way slithy toves slides off his tongue when he puts on that creaking voice he uses for warlocks durning games.

Now though he mumbles it to himself in the dark, his ludicrous attempt at bringing down his mood. Something had woken him at the witching hour, 3:07 shining a bright green from across his room. He wasn’t cold, his window shut against the chill earlier when you’d come over. He wasn’t overheated, quite content with you softly cuddled up next to him. No itch or ill folded sheet causing him discomfort. He had seven solid minutes of waking, a few he spared to revel in the heat of you lying next to him. To feel your shoulder lying on his as you pressed your face into his pillow. Your knee bent up and almost over his own and your hand planted firmly on his thigh.

Oh. That.

Those fingers he liked to twirl around his own and lick salt off of when you were done with your fries? Those fingers were under the hem of his boxers and a very much pressing into the meat of his thigh. You don’t move except to breathe but all he can focus on is that hand literal inches from his dick. The dick he’d kept in check for weeks now in the hopes he wouldn’t chase you away with the absolute need he felt. Kind of like right now where it lays heavy and hot against his thigh just like your hand.

So Jabberwocky it is.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

But in the dark with a hard on, slithy toves makes him chuckle. Almost full on giggle and he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Slithy toves sounds like a euphemism for pussy and he can’t help the huffs of laughter pushed through his nose. He looks down in the hopes that this has distracted his dick but apparently laughter makes him harder and he files that away to look into at a later date. Borogoves floats through his brain and he immediately thinks about giving your boobs a new nickname and he has to put a foot down for himself.

Next verse.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

Bandersnatch has to be a euphemism, there’s no goddamn way, it has the word snatch in it. He rolls his eyes and before he can sigh you shift beside him in your sleep, closer with your nose in his curls on his pillow and that soft hand he’s thought about when his own is too boring in the shower scoots another inch closer to the problem.

Maybe if he whispers it out loud?

“He took his vorpal sword in hand;-”

Absolutely not. Nope. New plan when he feels your sleeping breath across the front of his throat. It ghosts over his adams apple and all he can think about is your lips on his neck last week and how he’d pulled at his hair after you’d left just because it drove him insane.

Maybe if he recited it backwards it would confuse him enough all the blood would need to race back up into his brain.

“Outgrabe…raths…the-no…mome the and…” He’s squinting hard in the dark, reading invisible words on the ceiling in this new attempt to circumvent disaster.

“Borogoves…ha. Damn it. Borogoves…the were…mimsy all.” A headache is all this is giving him but for a moment he’s forgotten your hand and where it was. He’s searching the next line in his head and trying to jumble it so it isn’t so halting in the early morning quiet.

“Wabe the in gimble and gyer did!” He almost claps his hands when he makes it through without pause but he stops himself for fear of waking you up. Instead he spends 20 minutes working his way backwards through his poem, whispering to the night about the Jabberwock.

O frabjous day indeed when he realizes his dick is half soft now, not such a nuisance and a terror after he’s distracted himself. He thinks about waking you gently, a hand brushing your hair away from your face or running lightly over your leg but then you move. You move of your own accord and hook your leg over his. Kneecap bumping your hand higher and if he breathed wrong right this second you’d be brushing fingertips over his balls.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,”

He mutters without whisper. It’s not full volume speaking but he really doesn’t want you to wake up and find him hard and awake with your hand shoved up his shorts. As much as he would really love to feel your hands on him like that he’s been trying his best to be gentlemanly. Only necking on your timetable when you steal him away to a quiet corner. A little over the pants stuff, heavy petting but you’ve never pushed it and it won’t make you uncomfortable, no matter what his dick wants him to do.

“Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!”

Eddie sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hm?” You hum at him. A high note in the back of your throat that has him whipping his head to see you stirring. Adjusting to your side and dra-a-agging that hand. He doesn’t know what to do as you come around and blink up at him in the dark. He can see the edges of your expression from the light filtering in from outside, smooth brow and faint smile until it isn’t.

“Di’ yousay sumthin’?” Slurred against his shoulder where your mouth is pressed.

“Uh, kind of.”

“You okay?” You press up against him, your pelvis into his hip and he’s about to be caught. There’s no way you aren’t going to notice the outline in his boxers or the way he’s gotta be sweating gallons just in nerves.

“I…yeah?”

“What’s the ma-” You shift to prop yourself up so you can sleepily inspect him and he wants to subsequently die and sigh happily when your hand meets trouble. “Oh.”

Oh. Oh? Oh yeah, no big deal, it’s just his dick showing up to ruin the party like the world’s worst frat guy. “Look, I was trying to make it go away and I-“

“Why?” Having just woken up your voice is soft in a deep way. Scratchy from dry air but it fits the mussed hair and the rucked up t-shirt you have on. His gaze falls on the sliver of stomach that you’re showing off between the covers and he’s having a hard time coming up with an answer.

“Why?”

“Is there an echo in here?” You laugh and slide your palm over his stomach that tenses. “Yeah, why.” Your pinky catches the hem of his thin shirt and pulls it up to reveal his own section of underbelly. “We’re alone right?”

“Y-yeah.” It comes out like a hiss though because your nails scratch across that newly revealed skin and right over the trail of hairs below his belly button. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t uh, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Your fingers move back and forth over his stomach before you let them dip back down to the waistband of his boxers, fingertip seeking under the elastic ever so slightly. “You’ve been very patient Eddie.” The rings on your hand are body warm but hold a child to them when they glide over skin. “I think we just had a little misunderstanding at first though.” Fingers comb through wiry hairs on their search for their prize. “I’ve been trying to do this since you asked me out, but I thought you wanted to wait.”

“Oh my god, no. I mean yes, because I thought that’s what you wanted but I read into things too much sometimes bec-ause fuck.” He was running his mouth but then you’d grabbed him. Wrapped that dreamy hand around his cock and sighed into his cheek like you were the one experiencing earth shattering euphoria.

“Eddie I’ve wanted to do this for months.” A slow tug to the tip and you do something with your fingers that makes his mouth hang open in a silent plea. Another twist before you run your thumb over his slit and he grabs your wrist.

“This is gonna be over so quick if you keep that up.”

“Well that’s not so bad, I was still a little tired.” Highlights pick up the line of your lips and that sleepy smile that’s all for him. Heavy lashes flutter when he lets you go and shoves his shorts down to give you room to work. “You can get me back when we wake up.”

He throbs in your grasp at the promised idea of getting you back and all that entails. He can’t help himself but think of wet and warm places while your hand moves in languid strokes. Hot puffs of air across his chest where you lay your head to watch and then he’s watching you watching yourself and falling into a vortex of horniness. He wants to weave his fingers into your hair for some reason. Wants to feel the softness between his fingers while you rub velvet skin through your own.

“Eddie?” You pant into his shirt, lips catching and dragging on the cotton.

“Yeah?”

“What were you reciting?”

It almost pulls him out of his pleasure it’s jars him so. Briefly he thinks about lying and saying Shakespeare but you’re already giving him a 3 am handjob so he thinks he might not have to fib. “Jabberwocky.”

“Alice in Wonderland?” Your hand leaves his cock suddenly but he doesn’t get to whine about it before he’s whining about you licking your palm and getting back to work. He nods above you like you could see him but it earns him a chuckle from you and a stray few fingers that tug at his balls.

“God damnit yes.” He does push his hand into your hair then, the other fisting into the sheets beside him. You make a passing remark about reciting it then but he honestly might not even know his own name. The way his legs move restlessly against the bed and his fingers grip into your scalp. The damp slide of your palm over the head of his cock, the twisting motion you keep doing, it’s all rocketing him towards his finish. The burn of it in his belly clouding his senses and making him buck his hips up into your touch. The air of your breath keeps breezing over his overheated skin and your panting laughs are shoving him closer and closer until he’s squeezing his eyes shut and going stiff.

Warm lines splash up his stomach and he knows in a minute or two he’ll feel shame unmatched by man heretofore known but right now he couldn’t care. Soft hands drag him through the aftershocks while you make praiseworthy noises into his chest. You coo at him for a job well done and he can feel the heat rise on his cheeks. Sitting up again to look back at him your drag a finger through the mess he made and when you take three seconds to inspect it he doesn’t expect you to bring it to your lips.

“I-“ He what? What can he say while he watches you suck on your index finger like he does? When a slick grin hooks the corner of your mouth up into something devilish and he has an awakening at almost 4 am.

“How was that, huh? Glad we got that over with?” You drop your cheek to your shoulder to give him a smolder but Eddie needs to taste your lips after you’ve tasted him. It’s a need not a want so he rushes you, pushes you back into the bed and gets his mess everywhere but it doesn’t matter. He kisses you deep until you both have to come up for air and then he’s peppering your neck in them until your giggling is too much.

He uses his shirt to wipe himself off, promising a shower in the morning, and pulls both of you under the covers to conspire in the afterglow.

“Do you think reading that poem is gonna Pavlov you now?”

“How so?”

“I mean,” your laugh cuts into your explanation, “slithy toves kind of sounds like a name for-“

“Pussy! I know!” He laughs with you. “And Bandersnatch!”

[super-marvel-dc]

Jason: *Recording while Y/N and Damian are arguing*

Y/N: HOLD UP, HOLD UP, HOLD UP, HOLD UP!! HER SISTER WAS A WITCH, RIGHT? AND WHAT WAS HER SISTER? A PRINCESS! THE WICKED WITCH OF THE EAST, BRO!

Dick: *Wheezes like a tea kettle*

Damian, pulling out a knife: I'm gonna stab them.

Y/N: YOU'RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND YOU'RE GONNA TELL ME THAT I'M WRONG? AM I WRONG?

Damian: It's my favorite movi-

Y/N: SHE WORE A CROWN AND SHE CAME DOWN IN A BUBBLE, Damian!

Damian: I'm not fighting with you, I'm not fighting with y-

Y/N: GROW UP, BRO. GROW UP!

Tim: *Passed out on the couch though the whole interaction.*

[thesassypadawan]

Milky Way (Will x WifeReader)

Summary: It’s the night of Halloween and the little monsters are all tucked in their beds.  What better way to unwind and celebrate with your hubby than enjoying your favorite treat…Milky Way.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Cunnilingus, spooky treats, jump scare, slight hint of breeding kink, loving that thick booty, and…Will’s skilled tongue and fat dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

- It was the night of Halloween and all through the haunted house…  Not a little monster was stirring, except for a wicked witch and one handsome devil…

- “Mmmm, milk way; my favorite,” you hum happily to yourself.  Popping another piece of the candy into your mouth; moaning a tiny bit at its caramelly, creamy goodness.  All the while a lone drop of cum trickles down your leg. 

- Part of you knows you should feel guilty for raiding the kids’ trick-or-treat buckets.  That these confectionary delights weren’t good for you anyways.  That they’d go straight to your already thick thighs and would only give you a…

- An arm loops loosely around your waist, broad chest presses against your back.  Faint stumble tickling at, lips pressing into the side of your neck.  No doubt leaving behind a spot or two of the remnants of his ghoulish paint.  “Careful, your booty will get bigger if you keeping eating those.” 

- Evil grin spreads across your face, small giggle bubbles from your throat.  As you begin to unwrap what was easily your sixth one, wiggling your wide hips slowly…enticingly.  “Like you’d really complain?  Thought you wanted it to, whole reason why you filled me up before you went out.”

- Groaning low in your ear; the sound rumbling through you, forming goosebumps on your skin.  Will’s big hands glide down your sides; taking a moment to give each handle an appreciative squeeze, eliciting a sweet coo from you.  “I do, would love nothing more than to see you plumper…rounder.”

- Fingers creep underneath the skimpy black skirt, between your plushy pillows.  “And I’ll keep doing it too, every chance I get.”  Grazing your drenched panties, slipping past.  Coating them in his cum, your slick; teasing your warm folds, sopping cunt.  “Until we get that positive again.”

- Mewling softly, you rock backwards; impaling yourself onto his digits.  “Nnngh, hope it’s soon.”  Fiddling to open number seven; still blissfully sucking away at the last, letting the chocolate coat your mouth.  “Then I can eat all the milky ways I like…right?”

- “Only if I do,” he chuckles.  Lazily pumping them in and out, peppering your jaw and cheeks with heated kisses.  “And speaking of…”  Nipping at that sensitive spot, the one which makes you instantly melt.  “…the kiddos are down for the count and I did take them around the neighborhood, twice.  So…”

- Tilting your head, you shoot him a sideways glance.  Eyebrows raised in mischief, sugary morsel hovering inches away from your lips. “Dad tax?  All right, but you have to say the magic words.”

- “Fine, baby girl.”  Snatching it from your pinched fingers, removing his own from your greedy hole.  Will deftly hikes the costume up over your hips, tugs your jack-o-lantern panties down; dropping to his knees, nudging your legs apart.  Hot breath fans across your sticky skin; gummy walls flutter involuntarily, around nothing.  “We’ll do it your way.”

- Biting down lightly on your thigh, teeth sinking in slightly.  “Trick…”  You let out the yummiest little gasps as his hands grab, grope your ass.  “…or…”  Presses, trails loving kisses towards your creamy center.  “…treat.”  

- Burying his face, tongue darts out.  Sliding between your swollen lips; tasting, savoring.  Licking long strips, eagerly lapping up your mixed releases…devouring you like a zombie starved.

- “Dadddyyy,” you moan.  Gently squishing his head with your plushy pillows, grinding against him.  While he traces, delves deeply; reaching those places that only he can manage.  “More…dadddyyy more.”

- Growling into you, the vibrations only spur on your pleasure.  The knot in your stomach tightens, legs start to tremble and shake.  Face grows flush, breaths come out in short pants.  “Greedy ghoul…” 

- “Always asking for extra…”  Firmly he kneads your cheeks, rubbing circles into the subtle flesh.  “That’s how you ended up like…this!”  Smacking just hard enough to make it to jiggle, ripple…you to wail like a banshee.

- Your ghastly sounds couple with his wet, slurping ones; echo throughout…bounce off the walls.  And part of you knows you should be quieter, that you should try to stifle…swallow them down like candy.  But with the way he’s swirling, sucking…even nibbling on your clit.  It’s all too easily forgotten that…

- “Ma-mama?    Mama, is there a monster in here?”

- Both of you instantly freeze and never have you been so grateful for a kitchen island.  “N-no, baby,” you quickly stammer.  Trying your hardest to stay calm and composed…with your husband’s tongue still wedged deep inside you. “I was just…I was just listening to some spooky music while cleaning up.  Yeah…that’s all.”

- Despite it being such a terrible excuse, you were able to coax the gremlin to go back to bed.  Only after giving them an entire pale and saying that they could eat to their heart’s content.

- Letting out a sigh of relief, you popped the eighth piece into your mouth.  Nervously chewing, swaying your hips side to side.  “You really sure you want another one, dadcula?”

- Pulling away a bit, Will rises to his feet.  “Milky Way or kid?”  You can hear the tinkling of his belt, the ruffle of fabric behind you.  “Because the answer to that is both, momster…”  Then feel the press of his fat, leaking tip.  “As many as we can handle, until it’s all too sickeningly sweet for us.”  Before driving into your cute cunt, intent on stuffing you again with his salty nougat…then having his share, his dad tax.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @theoriginalsinner28, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @fredswrite, @anisangeldust, @catachlysmicjedi

[slashingdisneypasta]

Captain Hook x AFAB!Fairy!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You thought convincing a witch to make you big as a human would soften your edges. Make you feel a little less.

But thats not the case. You still get so mad you cant see straight, you still get so sad you cant stop crying, and you still get so horny nothing else matters.

Warnings: Dub con themes. Fucking of convenience 😅 XD Context?? Nay... Also unedited.

It wasn't your fault that the only person with you when you started feeling this way was Captain Hook! If you had been close to mermaid lagoon, you would've happily engaged with a mermaid and not the cruel, wicked pirate you were most certainly not supposed to fraternise with. All the fairies were loyal to Peter, you all loved Peter dearly, and therefor all the fairies hated mean old Hook.

But when you got this way trying to sneak away from the pirates before they saw you, accidentally rubbing against a tree you were attempting to slip past, and let out that desperate, too-loud moan... and he heard you... and sent his men away so he could help the odd, human-sized fairy... you didn't have a choice! You had to use the cruel pirate Captain's convenient dick.

He only had to flash a beautiful wicked smirk at you, those burning eyes that looked like blood whenever he killed simmering right through you, before your shed your thin dress and bowled him over and onto the forest floor with your eagerness to release his cock from his belt and his pants and sit on it. You fumble with the belt, unfamiliar with the article, and you accidentally leave scratch marks with your sharp nails over his thighs as you pull down his trousers, but when you finally settle down onto his cock, taking him deeply inside your throbbing, drooling pussy you feel immediate relief. If only a little bit; not nearly enough to stop.

The Captain sighs, too, experiencing probably his first warm cunt since he was stranded at Neverland. A feeling you're sure the rotten old bastard coveted desperately all these years, seeing as how eager he was to be left alone with an insatiably horny fairy. You could see it when you closed your eyes and began to ride him; Him alone in his ships study pumping his cold and lonely cock with his eyes closed imagining if only there was a pretty girl in all of Neverland to sink into. The thought would bring you unfiltered joy, Captain Hook pathetic and needy, if you weren't already busy with pure, filthy lust.

The pretty sounds of ringing slip past your lips, the only language you know, as you fuck yourself on his thick cock. The sound like if someone took a bell and shook it like crazy filling up the clearing, along with the Captain's heavy breathing under you. He raises his torso and uses his good hand to hold himself up with his fingernails embedded in the earth under him while the arm with that dreadful hook wraps around your waist; holding you close and calling you magnificent in a breathless whisper.

He cum's a few times while you fuck him, getting hard again every time when you don't stop and don't let him up, instead keeping him in your vice-grip, drawing him dry. Its your one solace. He wanted to take advantage of your predicament; well he definitely got that.

When you finally cum your wings flutter extatically behind you, sending a cold gust of wind into the forest and blowing leaves up off the ground. You leave your shimmery grease all over the Captain's dick, thighs, and pelvis. With a flap of your wings you raise off of him, turn on him like he means nothing, and slip your dress back on over your body.

You're about to leave him in that clearing, sure that he hasn't moved, when you feel an arm wrap tightly around your waist and a body press tight to your back. A gasp rips from your throat, and you freeze- still.

You can feel warm breath on your neck when he mutters quietly to you; My dear, I don't know how you got to be this size. Cruel, fickle little creature... but don't think you're getting away.

We could be quite useful, to each other.

[thestuffedalligator]

The rain was coming down like a giant was pissing on the city.

It was times like this that I wished I was human. Detectives love rain. They want the stuff to wash them away with the scum of the street.

I can’t stand water. Never touched the stuff.

My name is Ginger. Once upon a time I used to be the Gingerbread Man. Now I’m a private dick and I drink enough to be a rum cake.

It’s a hard job if you aren’t a tough cookie. I have all the requirements. I’m sugar and spice and a whole heaping of trouble.

I also got an umbrella I borrowed from the Wicked Witch of the West after a case last month. It helps on days like this.

The city was still sleeping like Snow White when I made my way to the crime scene. I turned into an alley and stepped into the remains of a pillow fight from hell. White feathers were scattered across the alley like a soggy snowfall. Blood mixed with rain and trickled down the cobblestones.

Gretel gave me a nod when I walked up. Gretel’s good people. She’s the only person I know who won’t try to eat me. “Thought you might want to see this, Ginger.”

“You’ve been stuffing pillows tonight, Gretel? It looks like Christmas in here.”

Gretel made a face and pointed a thumb to a lump under a tarp. “Then you just missed the Christmas dinner,” she said.

I took a look. There wasn’t much to see besides a greasy little pile of what you’d get if you ate a whole rotisserie chicken down to the bones.

The vic was Chicken Little. I knew the name. Little was a local nut who started a doomsday cult in the neighbourhood. I thought she’d be the kind of dame who’d get into trouble someday.

This wasn’t what I had in mind. Who’d want to whack a pamphlet thumper who thought the world was going to end anyways?

I picked up a rib. There were tiny scrapes scored across it in a line, like she’d been using it to count the days to oblivion.

I stared. “These are teeth marks, Gretel.”

I looked up. Gretel looked sick. That’s when I knew for sure.

“These are fox teeth, Gretel,” I said. “There’s a fox in the city.”

“Ginger, I think you should leave town.”

I flicked the rib back down into the pile of bones and pulled a stub of a candy cane cigar out of my trench coat pocket. “My brother has a house out in the country,” Gretel was saying. “He hates eating gingerbread as much as me. You’d be safe out there for a few days until we can track this fox down.”

I patted down my pockets for a light. Gretel took pity on me and knelt into the shade of the umbrella to light a match.

I puffed a few clouds of peppermint smoke. For a second it really was like Christmas in that alleyway.

I don’t care much for Christmas. Typically people look at me and think of dessert.

“Gretel, you’re good people,” I said. I didn’t realize that I hadn’t said it before. It felt like it had to be said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Jesus Christ, Ginger, you know how your story ends.”

“Yeah, well. We're all trying to run, run, run as fast as we can from who you are.” I took one last drag and turned out of the alley towards the soggy city. For once, I wished the rain could wash me away. “But eventually it catches up to us.”

[flowershines]

✰ REACTION: ENHYPEN MEMBERS AS SMUT QUOTES

{warnings} ⇨ smut, mentions of sex

HEESEUNG:

“We tangle and merge. Love and let go. No one will ever know her like I do. I’ve touched every inch of skin. I’ve explored every part of her being. I love her shy when I pull her to my hips, my lap. I love her present uncertainty for things she knows how to do so fucking good. I love her pink flushed skin all over.”

“Little cum slut. You did so well. Now get on”

JAY:

“”I’m going to tear this sweet little cunt apart. I’m going to use it over and over again for my own needs,” he growls. “But I’m also going to make it feel good. Make it come on my tongue and my cock. Make it feel so good that you’ll never spend another day without begging for it. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of ever since I saw your picture in your book. My beautiful, put on this world just for me.”

“I’m gonna fuck you now. It’s gonna be fast and hard because I’ve waited too long for this, but we’ll go again right after, and then I’ll take it slow.”

JAKE:

“”Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks. “Am I too rough?” I huff out an amused breath. “No.” He slowly pulls his cock out and turns me around before setting me down with my ass on the desk. Swallowing, I whisper, “You are just an overwhelming man. I never knew sex could feel this good. I’m not crying because I’m sad.” My voice skips. “I’m not crying because you’re hurting me. I’m crying because I’m… happy.””

“”Fuck. I knew you would like my cock. I fucking knew it, sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.” She takes me even deeper then, and I can feel the tip touch the back of her throat. “Christ,” I grit out. “So fucking deep. Just imagine how it would feel inside your tight little cunt.””

SUNGHOON:

“God, I love that tight fucking cunt. My little fuck hole, for me to tear apart and pump full of my cum. And you love that, don’t you? You like it when it drips out of you and I push it back in,” I tsk. “Dirty, dirty girl.””

“”Choke on a dick, asshole,” she spews. I bite my lip, but it does nothing to contain my dirty grin. “I’m not going to do that. But you will, baby. I’ll shove my cock so far inside that dainty little throat that you’ll be begging me to let you breathe. Maybe that’ll teach you not to run your pretty mouth like that.’”

SUNOO:

“”I thought about you every fucking night I lay alone in my bed, stroking my cock. Imagining pumping your sweet little pussy full of my cum. Or painting your pretty face with it, or those heavenly tits.” I curl my fingers inside of her and her eyes roll to the back of her head. “You even haunted my dreams. You put a spell on me like a wicked fucking witch, and fuck me, I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m being hexed by you.””

“”I want to fuck you like my personal whore. Then I want to pet you like a puppy and hold you warm against my chest. Treat you so soft and sweet, like a princess. You make me crazy, little brute. You make me feral and wild and insane. And I thought I already was all of those things. But it was nothing compared to when I met you.””

JUNGWON:

“”Fucking hell, you’re sweet. You’re so goddamn sweet, I just want to sink my teeth into every inch of you.””

“”I’m going to put my cock inside you now. I’ll let you adjust to it first, but after that, I’m going to fuck the absolute shit out of you like you’re my personal little harlot.””

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Your Vampire: Chapter One

Fit as a Fiddle

(Max Phillips x f!reader)

Words: 1, 197

Summary: after being dumped by your fiancé, your friend and boss, Max Phillips comes to your rescue. You know his biggest secret…

Warnings: medical procedures mentioned, the worst ex in the world, mild swearing, lots of crying, no y/n, reader has nickname Garland

Check out masterlist here

“We need to talk.” That was what he said before you went into surgery.

It was hard to hear over the fog of anaesthesia lifting away. It was almost like floating underwater, but it wasn’t hard to understand what he was saying.

Yesterday, you were somewhat happily engaged to Jacob with plans to potentially start planning a wedding in the somewhat distant future. Now you didn’t even have a ring on your finger. The crushing pain creeping up your chest was worse than the pain from the surgery was going to be.

Then in walked your boss, Max Phillips with his three-piece suit and a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey Garland, how was surgery?”

You promptly burst into tears.

“He dumped me?”

“He what?”

“He dumped me!” you wailed. “I thought I was imagining it from the drugs wearing off but no, he definitely dumped me. Left a note just to confirm it and took my ring!”

“Did he dump you because you got cancer?”

“He didn’t exactly put it in those words but yes.”

“I always knew he was a prick but damn, that was a serious dick move.”

A fresh wave of tears started running down your face. Max started to hand you his handkerchief but realised the amount of tears and snot protruding from your face so he rethought his strategy. He handed you a nearby box of tissues.

“And I’ve got nowhere to go!” you said after blowing your nose.

“You don’t?”

“I won’t be living with Jacob anymore so now I’m technically homeless. I’ve just had surgery, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Well my dear, I happen to be the solution to all your problems!” you looked up at him in confusion. “I happen to have a spare room.”

You felt like the Wicked Witch of the East in that a house fell on you. So you began to think of your next logical move. Being logical helped in situations where you didn’t want to drown in emotions.

But this only left you numb. You barely remember the change in location. Everything was too much of a blur to notice anything. The only thing you remember is ending up on a couch that must belong to Max watching the screen of what must be Max’s TV. Unsure of what you were watching, but the colours and movement distracted you enough from yourself. If left alone with your thoughts, you would fall into the depth of a sadness so dark, no light would pierce it. Also, you ran out of tissues.

Max noticed this and proceeded to help you out of this darkness.

“I’ve had a very nice bed made up for you. Are you just going to lie there like an adorable couch potato?”

You mumbled something resembling a yes.

Max sighed, unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the coffee table so he could face you from your bundle of blankets.

“Seeing as you’re going to wallow in your own misery, you won’t object to what I’m going to say: that pathetic excuse of a human being you call your ex-boyfriend is possibly the biggest prick in the known world. He’s as self-centred as the sun but actually nothing revolves around him. Any objections so far?”

You said nothing so he continued.

“I really should have made a PowerPoint but if it weren’t for you, he would have no chance at a promotion.”

You mumbled something and he leaned in to hear you repeat, “I knew he’d be up for promotion.”

“Well he’s only up for consideration for potential promotion. He made the wrong move in dumping you.”

“I hope it hits him in the face how much he’s messed up,” you said with more conviction.

“There we go! There’s the Garland I used to know. Now come, I have some therapy for you.”

Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you followed Max to see what he had hanging from the spiral staircase.

“You just happen to have a punching bag with Jacob’s face on?”

“Doesn’t everyone have one?” You rolled your eyes as he handed you a bat. Nodding his head towards the punching bag, he said. “Come on, you know you want to.”

You started off just poking the punching bag, it didn’t move. Then you gave it a small whack. That small whack released a tiny bit of anger in you, and it felt good. You gave it another whack. But your stitches were preventing you from releasing your maximum fury, so you put your rage on the photo. You ripped it off the punching bag and continued ripping it.

Max let out an impressed whistle as you ripped the photo with your teeth.

“Bloodthirsty, I like it. Feel better?” he asked.

You spat out the paper, “I’m hungry now.”

“Good, what do you feel like?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll heat you up some soup.”

“I’m starving.”

One serving of good food later, you felt somewhat normal. As normal as you could be after surgery and then being dumped by your fiancé post-surgery. The hour suggested it was time for bed, so Max led you to where he assigned your bedroom.

“Really? A four-poster bed?”

“Hey, it’s romantically classy.”

“What type of bed do you have?”

He put a hand on your shoulder, “You need some rest, my dear.”

You were too tired to realise he was avoiding the question. It was actual needing a good night’s rest tiredness, not the drifting through life tiredness. Before you felt like a ghost drifting through existence but now you felt almost human again. Almost like yourself again.

You woke up feeling refreshed and happy. But then the pain across your abdomen reminded you of your current life situation. Instead of burrowing under the high-quality bedding, you got out of bed. It was the first step to recovery.

You took the first proper look at your surroundings. The bedroom you came out of seemed to be the only room that offered any privacy. The rest of the house was open plan. The high ceilings hinted the building was much older than its modern furnishings. A spiral staircase led up to a small loft, but you didn’t need to climb up to know this was not where Max slumbered. The only other option was the only other door. You found it led to the basement. You didn’t feel the coldness of the stone steps in your fluffy sock covered feet.

As you slowly descended, you took note of the stonework mixed with modern patchwork to fill in the holes. A solid glass floor preserved the stone floor giving off a peaceful but ominous feeling.

The basement looked like a typical basement for a typical business guy. The gym equipment was so typical it was funny. What wasn’t typical or normal in any way was the door in the floor.

It didn’t look like a trapdoor, just an odd quirk made by the architect. As you pondered the strange design, the door opened.

Out emerged Max Phillips as if from a slumber.

The two of you stared at each other for an awkward moment.

“So, I’m a vampire,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.”

Next

Lovingly tagging @chaithetics @cevans-is-classic @galaxyedging @letsgobarbs @peepawispunk @missladym1981 @kirsteng42 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @ericamarie093 @yorksgirl @chasingthepoguelife

[leoleolovesdc]

I like to think kid Dick and Talia genuinely hated each other's guts but nowadays it's more of a playful thing? Like

Talia: *coming for a vist*

Dick: I see the wicked witch of the west has arrived

Talia: And the pantless bird hasn't moved out yet? I thought you'd have a job by now but it seems nepo babies never get a hand of those things

Dick: *throws a sword at her* sparring after dinner?

Talia: *catching it w/o a beat* yeah, sure

[jasontoddscrowbars]

🐓🧱

Bruce and Clark getting heated as they smack lips in B’s bedroom.

Damian appearing out of nowhere like most demon children do: Father.

Bruce jumps, throws Clark sideways off of him like he’s some brought home floozy.

Bruce playing innocent: yes?

Damian, not buying it nor giving a damn: I require assistance. I have spilled dog food in the toaster and it is now on fire.

Fire alarms ringing off, boys screaming in background. Pure terror and chaos.

Bruce: of course you have.

—

Bruce and Clark attempting at making out in the kitchen to make sure there is no toaster access.

Dick, who has no boundaries: B!

Bruce: ugh! Yes?

Dick: I flooded your bathroom.

Bruce’s face palms. Clark just warmly grins. He had heard the boys splashing water at Tim while claiming he was a wicked witch, who was screeching.

Bruce: and why not your own?

Dick: because Damian used it for his pet sand shark, geez Bruce, you should know these things.

Bruce, wishing he could put his adopted children back on the market: right, because a pet shark is always in their brothers bathtub!

—-

Bruce and Clark getting freaky in the tub

Jason: hey Clark.

Bruce, tired of it all: Jay!!!

Jason eating cereal on the toilet. Offers some to Clark who kindly denies.

Bruce: why the- why are you eating in here? I’m trying to-

Jason: fuck an alien? I always thought you’d bottom…

Clark clarifying: he does. He has to fuck me though. It’s his-

Jason: superiority complex. Get it. Tim’s got it too.

Bruce: what?

Jason smirking: for a little thing he’s pretty freaky-

Bruce blushing: I don’t need to hear this. Jay. Why are you here?

Jason: huh? Oh, because I may have joy ridden the Batmobile and it may be in the lake.

Bruce: cries.

—

Bruce and Clark in the Batmobile because fuck if he’s explaining to Gordon another child using his tank of a car to rampage the city.

Clark: you think we’re finally safe?

Bruce: sure. Dick and Damian went to the zoo and I told him to drag Jason along.

Clark: what about the one?

Bruce: ?

Clark, having flashbacks that are worse than those of his battles with his deadliest enemies: you know. The one? The one that may or may not be a sociopath and never sleeps. Pretty sure he does some sort of meth or coke. Has a higher victim count than Joker…

Bruce: it’s just Xanax and you’re thinking of Tim.

Clark, pretty positive of himself: Xanax?

Bruce, unsure:… dammit!

—-

Tim: wanna do it in the Batmobile?

Jason: if I ever say no, take me out cus it’s not me.

Tim pushes Jason against the hood of the car kissing.

Bruce popping up on the other side: so he fucks YOU?

Jason: 😚😗😯😮🫏

Tim: Bruce! Out!

Bruce, manic and mental: how’s it feel to be 🐓🧱 now bitch?! How does it feel?!

Clark, meekly smiling behind: I’m sorry, he hasn’t been laid in four days. Just humor him.

Tim: … slut.

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